Uncertain Honor Page 23

  “At least you brought your light infantrymen in from the cold,” Alerio stated.

  “Sir, we are on the Punic coast and it’s not cold,” Keoki countered. “However, our marching camp is now four miles from a mountain pass the enemy is most likely to use.”

  “Is that a problem?” Alerio questioned. “You did say you wanted to fight.”

  “That was a week ago. I was younger then,” the Centurion of Skirmishers laughed. “You are a man of your word, sir. It just never occurred to me you would squat in the path of the Qart Hadasht army.”

  “See those men in the footrace?” Alerio remarked while pointing to the far side of the training field. “They like to run, I don’t. Being here, I won’t have to chase the Empire down to bring them to battle.”

  Tribune Ostentus Colonna cantered up and stilled his horse. Phobos took the approach as a challenge and began to rear.

  “It’s alright, boy,” Alerio said in a soothing tone. He patted the stallion’s neck.

  “Sir, the horseraces are getting ready to begin,” the Tribune advised. “The cavalrymen would appreciate you watching.”

  “How do you feel, Tribune of Horse, about being in the path of the Qart Hadasht army,” Alerio inquired.

  “It’s a different mindset, Colonel,” Colonna replied. “From the reserves, we are the tip of the spear for the expedition.”

  “An excellent way to put it,” Alerio acknowledged. He didn’t want to give the cavalry commander an opportunity to say whether the location was good or bad. So Alerio declared quickly. “If Phobos sees horses running, he’ll want to run at the head of the herd. I need to change mounts. Follow me to the corral.”

  Alerio bent and started to tell the First Century NCO.

  “Sir, I heard,” the First Optio told him. To his Legionaries, the NCO shouted. “Moving to the corrals.”

  Ostentus and Alerio walked their horses away from the footraces. Around them, the protective ring flexed to clear a path through the celebration.

  ***

  For all the honors, the bodyguards, speeches to the Centuries, saluting and homage directed at him wherever he went, Alerio had come to realize the work of a Colonel was mostly reading, writing, and signing reports. Some internal paperwork for his Legion commanders and more for Consul Marcus Regulus and his expedition staff. And every day, the stack of correspondence on his camp desk grew higher. He reached for another report when voices outside the tent drew his attention. Moments later, Centurion Lophos, with a roll of parchment clutched against his belly, limped into the command tent.

  “Good afternoon, Colonel,” the cartographer acknowledged. His favoring of one leg was partially the result from exercising, and partially from the wagon accident. In a happy voice, the overweight officer exclaimed. “Feeling fit and looking forward to getting to work on the maps, sir,”

  Under penalty of a session on the punishment post, Lophos was forbidden from being too exhausted to go out on a patrol or to complain about being hungry or not happy.

  “Good to see you, I’m sick of reports,” Alerio exclaimed. He walked to the large table and help uncurl the new map. After studying the work from the day’s excursion, he complimented Lophos. “Nice representation of the entrance and the start of the pass. Once all the commanders have these maps, we’ll push deeper in and take new measurements.”

  Two moves of Legion North kept the cartographer busy laying out the defensive walls and the streets for each camp. With time to work, Lophos began a detailed survey of the trailhead for the mountain pass.

  “An excellent idea, sir,” Lophos acknowledged. For a moment, when Alerio was occupied examining details, the Centurion’s lips curled, and he bared his teeth. Then, as quickly as the feral expression came, it faded. “Will you be drawing with me today, sir.”

  “For a little while,” Alerio replied. “We need extra copies of this one for General Regulus’ staff and the other Legions.”

  Alerio took a pen, dipped it in ink, and duplicated Lophos’ lines on a fresh piece of parchment. As the two worked, the Centurion’s stomach growled. They both ignored the sounds of a hungry gut.

  In his mind, Lophos recalled with spite, Sisera’s words, ‘I’ve fought wounded, in freezing weather, and hungrier than you could imagine.’ The overweight Centurion reached for a thin piece of board and gushed.

  “It’s good to have help, sir,” Lophos commented while starting a new map.

  “We have a responsibility to forward the intelligence, and it shouldn’t all fall on your shoulders,” Alerio responded. With a flourish, he signed the map he had drawn and grabbed a clean sheet.

  They began filling their mediums with details of the mountain pass.

  Chapter 26 – Better Off Bored

  Hektor Nicanor woke long before daylight. After placing a fresh tunic, clean under garment, and a pair of polished hobnailed boots beside the Colonel’s bed, he left to wash up. Upon returning, the youth checked to be sure Sisera was still asleep. Seeing he had time, Hektor moved to another tent in the Battle Commander’s suite. With an eye into the sleeping quarters, the valet spread the content of his medical kit on the floor.

  “Do you have something in that bag for lethargy?” Alerio called from the cot.

  Hektor quickly gathered and repacked the bandages, splints, salves, and herbs. In smaller pouches, he stashed tiny steel and bronze blades, bronze needles, and thread made from silk and animal gut. Once the kit was sealed, he went and lit the brazier beside the Colonel’s camp bed.

  “Good morning, sir,” he greeted Alerio. “What was that you asked?”

  “What do you do all day while I scribble notes,” Alerio inquired. He held up his right hand and examined the ink stains that covered from the heel to his fingertips. “It’s got to be more exciting than writing reports and drawing maps.”

  “Ever since Weapon’s Instructor Donatas took over, I follow him around,” Hektor described. “He leaves a trail of bruises, cuts, and aching joints in his wake. I treat what I can and sympathize when I can’t. What did you ask when you awoke, sir?”

  “I brought the Legion here figuring the Qart Hadasht army would counterattack,” Alerio whined. He got out of bed and slipped the fresh tunic over his head. “But all I’ve encountered are ink stains and an ever-growing need for paperwork. Truthfully, Hektor, I’m bored to distraction.”

  “Colonel Sisera, in my medical opinion,” the youth told him, “you’ve just named the best prescription for the ailment.”

  “I’m not following you,” Alerio responded. He finished tying his boots, stood, and yawned.

  “Sacred Law on Tablet Ten of The Law of Twelve Tablets states on item eight, no gold shall be added to a corpse. But if anyone buries or burns a corpse that has golden dental work, it shall be without prejudice,” Hektor exclaimed.

  Alerio held up two fists and extended a pair of accusing fingers. Hektor understood the meaning and stated. “Sorry sir. It means I can’t add a golden thought to your mind, but I can point out what you already have.”

  “Stop with the double speak and tell me what you mean,” Alerio demanded.

  “Sir, you paid for me to get the best medic training in the Republic. Am I not to use the mystique of the medical profession to astonish you?” Hektor asked. Seeing the disapproving look on the Colonel’s face, he explained. “Distraction is key, sir. Get out of your office, get out of the camp, and go have a look around the countryside. Possibly at what you’ve been charting. There’s a distraction and the remedy you need. Break the routine, sir.”

  “It’s as simple as that?” Alerio questioned. “But my desk is buried.”

  “Leave the gold filling in,” Hektor advised.

  “You’re saying I should ignore the reports for the day,” Alerio proposed, “and accompany a patrol to the pass.”

  “Colonel Sisera, it’s totally up to you,” Hektor remarked. “If you don’t need me, Optio Donatas is about to begin shield drills with a first maniple Century. The inexperienced Leg
ionaries always suffer the most.”

  “Go patch up my infantrymen,” Alerio instructed. After dismissing Hektor, he shouted for his planning and strategies officer. “Tribune Invisum. Which Centuries have patrols today?”

  ***

  Decanus Philetus went to the first man in his squad. As the first squad leader for the Sixth Century, he had to set an example for the other Lance Corporals. Being first maniple, they were the least experienced and thus had eyes on them from their flank commander, Senior Tribune Emerens, all the way down to the Centurions in other maniples. And the string of scrutiny started with Philetus.

  “They’re all looking at us. Do you have water? Stay sharp,” he instructed his Pivot Man. After pulling on the man’s armor to be sure it was secure, he tapped the helmet and moved to the second man in his squad. “Remember, they want us to fail. It’s like we’re not good enough for their Legion. Stay sharp, prove them wrong. Do you have water?”

  Lance Corporal Philetus’ counterparts did the same inspection on their squads. But the eight squad leaders moved at different paces. Some took longer to check gear while others moved rapidly through the assessment. Although the eight Decani had little battlefield experience themselves, the nine unbloodied Legionaries in their squads had none. Philetus reached his ninth man and discovered he had an extra infantryman.

  The additional Legionary carried the scars of a veteran and must have been almost thirty years old. On average, most of First maniple was composed of boys seventeen to twenty years of age. By comparison, the infantryman appeared ancient.

  “Are you in the correct Century?” the Lance Corporal questioned. “Maybe you should go sleep it off. Who is your squad leader? I’ll have someone fetch him.”

  “This is the Sixth Century, first squad, and you are Decanus Philetus,” Alerio stated from under an old, unadorned helmet. The squad leader nodded. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be. My shield is serviceable, my gladius sharp, and I have water. Now, go report all accounted for and let’s get on with the patrol.”

  After a couple of seasons in the Legions, Philetus had learned two things. Follow orders and trust your gut when dealing with infantrymen. Still puzzled, he marched to the head of his squad.

  “First squad, you’re usually ahead of the others,” Optio Kalem noted. “Is something wrong?”

  Philetus bit his lip. Something about his tenth Legionary was familiar but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen the man. But he had seen him around the camp. If a veteran wanted to go for a long walk, who was he to deny the man the exercise.

  “First squad, all accounted for,” he reported to the Century’s Optio.

  “Second squad, report?” Kalem inquired.

  “Second squad, all accounted for,” the next squad leader replied.

  After the eighth Decanus reported, Optio Kalem turned about to face the unit’s mounted officer.

  “Sir, Sixth Century, Regulus Legion North, all are present and accounted for,” he announced.

  “Excellent. We’re patrolling to the mountain pass today. Corporal Decisus has paperwork to complete and will not be joining us,” Centurion Aeneas informed the Century. “Optio Kalem, march us out.”

  “Sixth Century, forward march,” the NCO ordered.

  Eighty men in a loose formation could very well become strung out for a mile. But Lance Corporal Philetus stepped aside and slowed until the last man passed him.

  “Pick it up,” he urged the laggards. “Keep it tight.”

  The location of their patrol was why Alerio picked the Sixth Century. Philetus was the reason he chose to march with first squad. Someday, from the reports he had, the squad leader would make a fine senior NCO.

  While Alerio thought about the Decanus, Philetus noted the older Legionary had no trouble keeping up with the squads. For that he was grateful, even as he feared getting into trouble for not reporting the stowaway.

  ***

  The Century traveled a mile northwest from camp before Alerio noticed the absence of a cavalry escort. Not an issue this close to the Legion stockade. However, in another two miles, they would reach the opposite side of the hill and head down into a valley. Even at that point, not having mounted cover for their flanks didn’t present a problem. If they weren’t attacked.

  “Aren’t we supposed to have cavalry?” he questioned the Legionaries walking beside him.

  “Sometimes we do and sometimes we don’t,” the young man remarked. With a sideways look, he asked. “Do I know you?”

  “I’m a replacement for the Twenty-Fourth,” Alerio responded naming a second maniple, right flank Century. “They wanted me to see the pass.”

  “Not much to see,” another infantryman tossed out. “A bunch of trees and a grass covered cart track. But we’re glad to have you along.”

  Second maniple meant Alerio was an experienced Legionary, making him an asset to a first maniple Century. And being from a unit on the other side of the Legion explained why no one recognized him. Except, it didn’t. Everyone in the Legion camp had seen him on many occasions as the Battle Commander.

  Alerio chuckled when he realized all the pomp and ceremony enjoyed by Colonel Sisera vanished without the bodyguards, the fancy armor, and the helmet with the horsehair comb over the crown. Hidden in plain sight, the commander for Legion North, marched with the infantrymen. The tension faded away, and he stretched his legs, enjoying the physical motion of the grind.

  ***

  The ground elevation began climbing to the left. Rather than hike up before descending the far side of the hill, the Century took a steep path down into a wide valley. Looking at the tops of the wild grass, Alerio judged the land to be flat and possibly good farmland. From the maps, he knew two miles ahead, the pass bumped against the edge of the valley. On the map, it appeared an easy four-mile hike from the stockade to the entrance of the mountain trail.

  “I hate this part,” one of the young Legionaries commented.

  “Why’s that?” Alerio inquired.

  “This is horse country,” he replied. “There’s no place for the infantry to set up a defense.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” another added. “He’s our resident doomsayer.”

  “I’m a realist,” the infantryman protested.

  Alerio glanced back at the steep path and to either side where open ground stretched out before rising to form the sides of the valley. He reached two conclusions. The land was better suited to cavalry than infantry and the Sixth Century didn’t have any. They continued to march, patrolling towards the entrance to the trail, without a mounted escort in sight.

  ***

  Four miles presented no problem for the Legionaries. In training, they regularly covered five times that distance.

  “There’s your cart path,” an infantryman pointed out to Alerio.

  As they headed for a day camp location, the eighty men of the Century marched by the entrance to the gap. The duty called for them to stay on station for most of the day. Patrolling and watching a fixed object was preferable to gathering firewood or forging the countryside for food. Both of those patrols required constant motion. In contrast, the squads of the Sixth had small routes to walk and all day to do them.

  “I thought you said the cart path was grass covered?” Alerio asked.

  “Our cavalry must have trampled it,” an infantryman suggested.

  Far from grass covered, the churned ground showed ruts from the passage of horses. Too many and too fresh to be from Legion cavalry, the disturbance revealed recent heavy use of the trail.

  The hairs on Alerio’s neck bristled. He had specifically instructed the survey teams to map the pass on foot. Either Tribune Colonna’s troopers had been joy riding up the mountain gap, or the Qart Hadasht army had decided to finally show up.

  Optio Kalem and squad leader Philetus both shouted as an infantryman sprinted from the rear ranks.

  “Get back in formation,” the Sergeant bellowed as he moved to intercept the charging Legionary. “Phil
etus, get that man under control.”

  The senior NCO attempted to block the man’s path with his body. In three heartbeats, Alerio reached the Optio, ducked to the right, and drove his left knee into the Sergeant’s midsection. Doubling him over, Alerio shoved Kalem aside, and continued running towards the mounted officer.

  Three steps back, Philetus reached for the mad infantryman but missed and stumbled to his knees. Glancing up, he expected to see his Centurion dragged from the horse. Instead, the Legionary held the reins while pulling off the old helmet.

  “Do you recognize me?” Alerio demanded of the combat officer.

  “Should I?” Centurion Aeneas questioned. “Release my horse or I’ll have you on the punishment post.”

  “Look closely,” Alerio insisted.

  The line officer peered at the scar on the head and his eyes popped wide open.

  “Colonel Sisera? I didn’t expect you to be dressed in armor and be here,” Aeneas searched for an excuse for not recognizing the Legion’s Battle Commander.

  “Get back to camp and sound the warning,” Alerio ordered. “I want twelve Centuries here as soon as they’re dressed. Have Senior Tribunes Emerens and Cancellus form a blocking force on the hill.”

  “But, sir, why?” Aeneas asked. His confusion obvious, the officer didn’t comprehend the danger. “Shouldn’t you be the one to ride back and deliver the message?”

  “Centurion Aeneas, ride now,” Alerio shouted. He slapped the horse into motion.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening?” Philetus stammered while watching his officer ride away.

  “Lance Corporal, find us a defensible position,” Alerio instructed. To the Sergeant, who stood but was bent over retching, he added. “Optio, I apologize.”

  The NCO held up a finger as if asking for another moment. Alerio looked at the motionless Philetus and realized the Lance Corporal still didn’t recognize him.

  “Let me introduce myself, Tesserarius Philetus,” Alerio informed the squad leader. “I’m Colonel Sisera, and we are about to have a bad patrol.”